Chapter 5 - MY UNCLE CAME TO VISIT THE CHILDREN HE TRIED TO KILL
Roman Mercer arrived at nine the next morning.
Of course he did.
He came every Sunday.
This was Thursday.
That told me everything.
His black Mercedes stopped at the gates.
Security called Prescott.
Prescott looked at me.
“Turn him away?”
“No.”
Mara stood near the medical wing entrance.
Her face tightened.
“You’re letting him inside?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t know Franklin talked.”
“He may suspect.”
“He’ll know if I refuse entry.”
Mara looked at me like she hated the logic.
Good.
I hated it too.
Federal agents had removed Franklin three hours earlier under sealed protective arrangements.
Roman had not been informed.
Neither had the public.
The official story inside the organization was that Dr. Yates had been temporarily removed after a medication error.
Roman entered carrying two gift bags.
One for each twin.
He kissed my cheek.
“Lawson.”
I resisted the urge to break his neck.
“Roman.”
His eyes moved to Mara.
“Who is this?”
“Mara Quinn.”
Recognition did not appear.
Good.
“She’s consulting with the new medical team.”
Roman’s smile tightened.
“Consulting?”
“Research.”
“I thought Franklin had everything covered.”
“So did I.”
That sentence landed.
Roman looked at me carefully.
Then smiled.
“Where is Franklin?”
“Home.”
Lie.
“Resting.”
Lie.
Roman nodded.
He walked upstairs.
Every step made my skin crawl.
This man taught me to ride a bicycle after my father died.
He took me to my first White Sox game.
He stood beside me at my wedding.
Genevieve called him Uncle Roman too.
Now he entered my children’s room carrying toy airplanes.
Blythe was awake.
Jonah slept.
Roman smiled warmly.
“Princess.”
Blythe smiled weakly.
“Uncle Ro.”
Something inside me twisted.
He kissed her forehead.
“How are you feeling?”
“Bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sounded sincere.
Maybe he was.
Human beings are capable of horrifying contradictions.
Blythe looked at the bag.
“Present?”
Roman laughed.
“Always negotiating.”
He gave her a stuffed blue bird.
She smiled.
I wanted to rip it away.
Didn’t.
Roman moved to Jonah.
Touched his hand.
His eyes filled.
Real tears.
That almost made me angrier.
When we left the room, Roman wiped his face.
“I hate seeing them like this.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He studied me.
“What did Franklin say?”
My body went still.
Too direct.
“He said ten days.”
Roman nodded slowly.
“He told me too.”
Of course he had.
“When?”
“Last night.”
Franklin had been in custody last night.
Roman realized his mistake at the same instant I did.
Silence.
Then his face changed.
The mask disappeared.
“Where is Franklin?”
I closed the hallway doors.
Prescott stepped from behind Roman.
Two guards appeared at the far end.
Mara remained near the twins’ room.
Roman looked around.
Then at me.
“So.”
I stared.
“You called Franklin last night?”
No answer.
“He couldn’t have answered.”
Roman’s expression became cold.
“What did he tell you?”
“Enough.”
Roman sighed.
Not fear.
Disappointment.
“I told him he was weak.”
My hands curled.
“You killed Genevieve.”
“No.”
“You ordered her medication switched.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without apology.
My vision narrowed.
Roman continued.
“I wanted her distracted.”
“She died.”
“I know.”
“You sat at her funeral.”
“Yes.”
“You held my daughter.”
“Yes.”
My voice broke.
“How?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Because I loved Genevieve.”
I almost struck him.
“Do not say that.”
“I did.”
“You poisoned her.”
“I made a decision.”
“You murdered her.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“Franklin made a medical error.”
Mara stepped forward.
“By following your order.”
Roman looked at her.
Then finally something flickered.
Recognition?
No.
Understanding.
“You’re the researcher.”
Mara froze.
Roman smiled faintly.
“Victor told me about you.”
My stomach tightened.
Victor Hale.
The former security chief.
Roman continued.
“He should have finished the job.”
I moved before thinking.
Prescott caught my arm.
“Lawson.”
Roman smiled.
“Still impulsive.”
I stared.
“Why the twins?”
His smile vanished.
“Money.”
At least he did not insult me with family language.
“Your father left a weak structure.”
“He left control to me.”
“And then Genevieve convinced you to dilute it.”
“For my children.”
“Children who were four years old.”
“They were heirs.”
Roman laughed.
“To what?”
He gestured around.
“This?”
“An empire built on freight contracts, extortion, political payments, gambling, unions, legitimate real estate, illegitimate everything.”
His voice hardened.
“You were going to hand it to children raised by Genevieve to hate half of what we are.”
“She wanted them safe.”
“She wanted them ordinary.”
“Yes.”
Roman stepped closer.
“There is no ordinary for a Mercer.”
“Then maybe there should be.”
That surprised him.
Maybe me too.
Roman studied my face.
“This woman has been inside your house one day and you’re already speaking like your wife.”
Mara went still.
I did too.
Genevieve would have smiled.
Roman continued.
“The twins got sick.”
His expression flattened.
“Franklin told me the outlook was poor.”
“So you made it worse.”
“I accelerated what was already coming.”
I lunged.
This time Prescott barely stopped me.
Roman did not flinch.
“You want me dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then kill me.”
He opened his arms.
“Right here.”
Mara shouted, “Lawson, no.”
Roman smiled.
“Listen to the stranger.”
I stepped closer.
“You want me to kill you.”
That made his smile fade.
“Why?”
Silence.
Then I understood.
Federal case.
Financial records.
Franklin talking.
If Roman died now, the conspiracy narrowed.
His assets stayed hidden.
His partners stayed safe.
And I became exactly what everyone expected.
A mafia boss solving family betrayal with a corpse.
“You want the easy ending.”
Roman’s face hardened.
I smiled without humor.
“Not today.”
For the first time, fear appeared.
Small.
But there.
I turned to Prescott.
“Let them in.”
Roman looked toward the staircase.
Federal agents entered the hallway.
FBI.
IRS-CI.
Two assistant U.S. attorneys.
Roman’s face changed.
“You brought federal agents into Mercer House.”
“Yes.”
“You idiot.”
“Maybe.”
Handcuffs appeared.
Roman looked at me.
“You think prison makes you clean?”
“No.”
That question mattered later.
“I think it keeps you away from my children.”
Agents moved.
Roman resisted only verbally.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I rarely do.”
He laughed.
Then looked at Mara.
“You think she came here to save you?”
I frowned.
Mara’s face changed.
Roman noticed.
His smile returned.
“Oh.”
He knew something.
“What?”
Roman looked at her.
“Tell him.”
Mara went pale.
I stepped closer.
“Tell me what?”
She said nothing.
Roman laughed as agents pulled him away.
“Ask her why Genevieve chose her.”
The hallway became silent.
I looked at Mara.
Her eyes filled.
“What does he mean?”
She stared toward the twins’ room.
Then at me.
“Not now.”
Wrong answer.
“Mara.”
“Blythe is sick.”
“Mara.”
Her voice broke.
“Genevieve didn’t choose me randomly.”
I waited.
She pulled something from her coat pocket.
An old photograph.
Genevieve at twenty.
Standing beside a younger blond girl.
Mara.
I stared.
“What is this?”
Mara whispered:
“She was my sister.”
Everything stopped.
Not full sister.
Half-sister.
Same mother.
Different fathers.
Genevieve had never told me.
Mara continued.
“She thought keeping me away from the Mercer family was the only way to keep me safe.”
My anger shifted into shock.
“You’re the twins’ aunt.”
“Yes.”
“And you stood at my gate calling yourself a stranger.”
“To you, I was.”
“You let me think—”
“I didn’t come for family.”
She looked toward the medical wing.
“I came because they are hers.”
My chest tightened.
“And because if we need a family donor…”
She swallowed.
“I might be their best chance.”
The world moved again.
Not a cure.
Not guaranteed.
But another possibility.
May you like
Genevieve had been gone two years.
Still, somehow, pieces of her kept finding their way home.
